


Discovery

by clood9



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Discovery, F/M, Friends to Enemies, Friends to Lovers, The Red War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-03-06 02:31:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18841825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clood9/pseuds/clood9
Summary: A new Guardian, Axol, wakes up in a world teeming with Darkness and has to find out what he's even doing here.Huntress Nadia looks for a third person in her fireteam, opting to go explore the not-so-far-away lands of North America to find them.Titan Amir-5 develops a feeling of jealousy as his partner makes a relationship with a complete stranger that she met in an unsanctioned expedition.





	1. Chapter 1

In a dark, dilapidated basement, a dead man is leaning against a fallen bookshelf, clutching a sleek-looking Fusion Rifle with the inscription ‘OMOLON’ on the side. A little multi-faceted machine about the size of a baseball flies in through a hole in the roof. His single sky-blue eye acts as a flashlight as he looks for his perfect Guardian.

The Ghost, who’s name is _Spur_ , sets his light on the lifeless man wearing a tattered old camouflage-green soldier uniform. He’s been searching for maybe ten years for his Guardian, and he thinks he might have just found it. His front facets spin as he scans the person up-to-down, his beam looking like one that would come out of a bar code scanner, but blue.

“I think this might be it!” Spur says, his voice like a human child. He then twirls in excitement. “Whoo! This is it, baby! My Guardian!”

He does a little cha-cha, swinging side-to-side in celebration. “Finally found it! Here we go!” His shell separates and his eye shoots a pure-white beam of Light to the corpse.

His joy is unmeasurable as he sees the person stir to life. A wave of nervousness comes over him. “Okay, don’t be awkward, introduce yourself, get to the point, and don’t be embarrassing.”

“Alright, here we go, deep breaths, Spur. Deep breaths, well you can’t actually breath but…” He jumps as he hears the person take his first breath. “By the Traveler he’s come back to life faster than I thought.”

There is a groan from the man, and one of his hands reaches for something to hold on. The Ghost doesn’t know what to do and attempts to nudge a table nearby, but is far too light to be able to move it.

“Oh, what am I doing!?” Spur says to himself. “Hi! Hi! I’m your Ghost and you’re my Guardian!” He says, the speed of his voice gradually increasing to the point where it is indistinguishable.

The man coughs, and lightly hits his chest a few times. He starts hacking, then clears his throat. His dull grey eyes make contact with the Ghost’s single one, then he points towards a half-full water bottle on the table the Ghost tried to push.

“You want _that_ water? It’s been sitting there for a hundred years!” Spur says, his facets curving forward as he looks at the plastic container.

“Just…just give it.” The man wheezes, then slowly opens and closes his hands, as if he was beckoning the water to come to him.

“Oh, fine…” Spur says as he flies behind it and slowly pushes it to the edge of the table.

“Oh no-“ The bottle drops to the floor and rolls away. A paper underneath it floats down next to the man. “I’m so sorry!”

The man coughs a few more times, and his head leans back on the blood-stained wall behind him. His breaths are heavy.

“Oh, right! I can heal you!” Spur remarks out loud as he immediately starts blasting rays of Light onto his Guardian without any warning. The man tries to shield himself. “Calm down, it won’t hurt you! In fact, it’ll do the opposite.”

The man’s arms drop, and he takes one last long breath. “I’m okay, I’m okay.” He whispers to himself.

“Yes you are!” The person screams and hurls the Fusion Rifle he was clutching at the Ghost. “Whoa!”

The man rapidly gets on his feet and he presses his back against the wall. “What the fuck are you!?” He yells at Spur.

“Guardian, I’m your Ghost!”

“My what? Ghost?” The man’s brows furrow and his head turns slightly, so he’s looking diagonally at the construct. “You don’t look like a ghost.”

“Not that kind of ghost!” Spur replies, almost offended. “I’m not one of those sheet-wearing weirdos that go around scaring people!”

“I can tell that.” The man’s voice softens. “Whoa…where am I?”

“You’re on Earth, that’s for sure.” Spur replies. “I think somewhere in North America?”

“Alright, alright.” He pauses, and relaxes his stance, then looks at the Fusion Rifle he flung to the other side of the room. “Sorry for, uh, throwing that at you.”

“It’s alright, I shouldn’t have been so…excited.” Spur says apologetically. “Here, I’ll get it for you.” He turns to the weapon and makes it disappear, then reappear in the man’s hands.

“Whoa, you can do that?” The man says, looking at the weapon in half-shock and half-amazement. “Wow.”

“So, uh, what’s your name?” Spur inquires.

The man gives a good thought to it, looks upwards towards the hole in the ceiling, then shrugs his shoulder. “I don’t know.”

“Check that note that fell next to you?” Spur suggests.

The man pats around himself and grabs the piece of paper next to his leg, gently holding it so it faced directly with the light that shone above.

“Axol, if you do wake up from this and read this letter, just know that our division has been ordered to retreat towards forward base Specter, the invaders are pushing us way back-“ The letter is unreadable from that point on.

“So my name’s Axol.” Axol says, cracking his neck. “I like it.”

“I like it too, Guardian, now come on, let’s go before-“ There is a screech and a small pitter-patter originating from one of the two locked doors in the room. Something speaks in an unknown language and starts pounding on the blocked entryway. The old piece of wood starts to give way, and cracks.

Axol holds his Fusion Rifle tight, his index finger hovering the trigger. The weapon feels unfamiliar to him, like it was someone else’s weapon. He holds his breath in and squints as he looks down the sights, waiting for whatever was on the other side to burst in.

A four-armed beast standing on two feet breaks in. It’s holding blades on its upper set of arms, and a talon-like weapon sparkling with blue energy on the lower set. It screeches and lunges at him.

Axol barely taps on the trigger and a burst of purple bolts come out of his gun, eviscerating the enemy and cutting it in two from its waist section. The two separated body parts fall unceremoniously. From the corpse drops a shining blue dodecahedron.

Axol kneels down to grab it, but it disappears in his hands and forms a dark grey band that is big enough to wrap around his bicep. He snaps it on and inspects it, shrugging as he doesn’t seem to mind its appearance.

“Wow, good shot, Axol!” Spur says, appearing out of nowhere.

“T-Thanks.” He exhales. “Let’s get out of here, before more of those things come.”

“Good idea.”

. . .

Axol steps through a broken glass door, the fragments crunching under his feet, and he steps onto an old, overgrown road. The asphalt of the sidewalk has various greenery growing on it, and the road doesn’t fare much better. Moss grows on the buildings all around him, with a strand of it in front of the doorway.

He looks both sides. Ancient cars line the streets, all overturned and crushed by a massive metal beast that ran on tracks, its giant main cannon looked to be broken and was facing downwards.

On a well-worn white banner hung from the top of a building read: _SAFETY THAT WAY_

Underneath the words was a crudely-drawn arrow pointing to the left.

Axol looks that direction, where the ground is mostly reclaimed by nature, growing on top of a few bumps that are probably dead bodies. He starts heading towards the supposed safety, only to trip on a body in his first few steps.

He grunts as his uniform takes most of the damage, but his knees scrape. He looks at what he tripped on, seeing a skeleton wearing the same uniform as him. It is clutching a hand cannon in one hand.

“Sorry about this…” He mutters as he pries the weapon out, wrapping his hand around the grip.

“That’s a Hakke gun!” Spur comments. “Not bad, a _Bad News hand cannon!_ ”

The name is a bit contradictory, but okay.

“Doesn’t have any bullets, though.” Axol flicks the weapon to the side, its cylinder popping out and no bullets dropped. “Probably what the bad news is.” He chuckles.

“Shame.” Spur says before disappearing.

“How can you do that?” Axol asks as he moves past the skeleton and hops over a crumbling road blocker, playing with his new weapon’s cylinder by spinning it in its chamber with his finger.

“ ** _I can disappear and reappear at will!_** ” He jumps at Spur’s voice in his head. “ ** _Ooh, I should have mentioned that too…_** ”

“Wow, um…” He doesn’t know what to say. “Pretty cool, I guess?”

“ ** _I think we should keep going towards ‘safety’._** ” Spur suggests.

Axol silently nods in agreement and continues on his way.

. . .

Night is coming, and the sun is almost gone. The darkness of the night is close to taking over. Luckily Axol finds himself at what looks like a military camp.

A skeleton in a uniform sits inside a booth that seems to control the fenced barbed-wire gate.

Axol looks closely at the bones’ clothing, noticing a little rectangular stitching that is divided in three parts: The two sides are red, while the middle section is white, and on the white is a red leaf. The name of it he doesn’t remember. He shoves the former corpse away and presses a yellow button that has ‘GATE OPEN’ etched onto it.

“Huh, this place is still functional.” He mumbles as the fenced gate slides to the side with a unpleasant screech. He steps into the base, and takes a look around.

To his front there are neatly placed colons of half-circle shaped tents, all uniform in their placement and style. Axol decides to go into one, making sure to close the door behind him.

He flicks a light switch, revealing nothing but rows of dull-green stretcher beds, a small fold-up table in one corner. There is a flickering tablet on it, the screen struggling to stay alive.

Axol shuffles in between a few beds and picks up the device, turning it around and smoothing his thumb over the soft-touch back as he woke the device. There is a single audio file to play.

There is a sigh. “Whoever is listening to this, the battle’s lost. Government’s surrendered a few hours ago to…whatever these things are.” The voice is low, devoid of hope. “None of us know how to kill them, and…well, Rasputin just shot the Traveler, but I didn’t tell you that.” There is a dark chuckle.

There is gunfire in the background and screams as a horrible screech overtakes them all. “Well, I guess it’s my time. If the Traveler wins this fight, against what the Speaker is calling the ‘Darkness’. Then…to the future, I guess.”

The recording stops.

Spur appears and scans the tablet. “This recording is dated…five hundred years ago! It’s a relic from the Collapse!”

“The Collapse?” Axol asks.

“I don’t know too much about it, but it’s the time where the Darkness entered our solar system, and the Traveler had to fight it.” Spur pauses. “It won the fight, but in its dying breath Ghosts, like me, were created.”

Axol nods and hums. “Pretty cool, huh?”

“It’s cool knowing the reason for your existence.” The Ghost muses.

“I think I should call it for the night, I’m getting sleepy.” Axol rubs his eyes and yawns, before climbing onto the stretcher closest to him.

/

_Ishtar Sink, Venus_

Guardian Nadia closes one eye as she funnels her vision through the scope of her Bite of the Fox sniper rifle, shifting her prone position a bit and flicking away a pebble that got stuck under her thigh. She holds her breath as her crosshairs set on a lone Fallen Vandal. She pulls the trigger and watches the alien’s head explode and its body fall over, convulsing like a chicken without its head. She quickly switches targets, and finds a Dreg that took cover, but misinterpreted where the shot came from, meaning she still has a direct shot on it.

Her rifle barks again and the Dreg falls.

“Nice.” She says to herself, then puts her fist in the air, and her Ghost materializes, bumping into it. “Thanks for not leaving me hanging.” She mumbles.

The stock of her rifle is tucked under her shoulder and her legs are crossed. She is leaning forward a bit, her back arching, slightly. Her body tenses as she fires another shot, hitting a Servitor in its single purple eye. She follows up with another one and it explodes.

“Back straight, Nadia.” Her Ghost says.

“Thanks, Cherry.” Nadia grumbles as she straightens her posture. She hears footsteps behind her, and jumps up in response, her knife drawn. She leaps towards the source of the sound and a metal hand grabs her forearm.

“Oh, hey Amir.” She says, pulling her hand back once he let go and sheathing her blade. “You reckon it’d be wiser to let me know that you’re coming up?”

The Exo Titan grunts, and he shrugs. His malachite green body shines a bit, the gloss reflecting some light into Nadia’s eyes. “You should’ve recognized when I’m approaching by now.” He mumbles.

Nadia rolls her eyes. “Please, you Titans all walk the same way. I could feel myself inching forward to the edge.”

“Whatever, I brought you lunch.” He tosses her a bar. “All I could do, sorry.” He says.

“Aw, thanks.” She chuckles and tears open the packaging, leaning against the crumbled wall. She thinks for a bit, and her head tilts up.

“I know you’re thinking of something.” Amir remarks, crossing one hand into his armpit. “What is it this time?”

“It’s getting kind of boring sitting here and picking off Fallen all day.” Nadia throws away the wrapping and wipes her hands on her pants. “Cold as your balls too.” She giggles.

Amir rolls his eyes. “I can get us a deployment to the Dreadnaught if you want.” He snickers.

“I’d rather not, that place is too creepy, even with Oryx dead, I would rather the Cosmodrome but that’s been closed off for a while now.” She sighs. “Just need a change of pace, you know?”

“I understand you, but you’re a deadly shot.” Amir nods to her sniper rifle. She gives a quick glance before returning her gaze at him.

“I know…but I wanna be down there.” She points towards ground-level, where the Vex have started to prowl in place of the Fallen. “We need a third.”

Amir scoffs. “A third? Like who?”

Nadia shrugs. “I dunno, we’ll find someone who’s alone on the field.” Her light-blue lips clump up on one side as she bites her cheek.

“We’ve been looking for a third member for weeks now.” He says, crossing his arms. “No one’s stepped up.” He sighs.

“Is it cause everyone hates you?” Nadia giggles. “Kidding, who doesn’t love you?”

“A lot of people, apparently.” Amir laughs.

“If we can’t find anyone here…”

“Nadia, no.”

“We can go over to…”

“Nadia.” He steps forward one step. It starts to rain, and the slightly acidic raindrops sizzle in the air.

Nadia looks upwards as she mumbles possible destinations to herself. “The Reef? No, the Awoken won’t like that, even though I am one of them. What about the Manhattan Nuclear Zone? No that’s off limits, even for me…”

“Nadia.” Amir says, a bit firmer this time.

“What?”

“We’re not going to be explorers.” She ignores him and goes back to thinking, her Ghost appears to her side.

“What about in the north west countries?” Cherry suggests, her voice distorting and lowering in pitch a bit towards the end. “Whoops, sorry.”

“You mean old Canada?” Amir asks. “My former self used to live there.”

“It’s a good starting place then, let’s go!”

“Nadia, come on, you’re being unreasonable.”

“Am not!” Nadia disappears, presumably to go to her ship.

Amir sighs. “This woman…” He mumbles to herself before going back to orbit.

/

It’s begun raining, more like downpouring. The raindrops’ rhythm hit at a machine gun’s pace and short bursts of lightning in the distance occasionally struck.

Axol peeks out from his tent once more to check if the rain’s stopped, even though his ears functioned very well. A bit of hope can’t hurt. His head returns back into the tent and his head is completely soaked, like the first few times he tried this.

“Oh come on, a little rain’s going to put you down!” Spur teases, floating over to his Guardian.

“A little rain?” Axol _tsks,_ and scoffs.

Another burst of rapid fire lightning.

“What kind of lightning strikes like this?”

Then an explosion in the distance.

“That’s not lightning, Guardian.” Spur says.

“Obviously, let’s check it out.”

Axol pushes the door to his tent open and steps outside, his boots meeting mud. He feels himself slowly sinking into it. Before he does, he moves his feet.

“The fighting’s that-a-way!” Spur turns towards the way in which they came into the camp from. In the distance there are the cracks and small white flashes of small-arms fire. “You need to find an actual helmet, you know that? I can’t interface with this one.”

“I don’t think this has any fancy tech in it.” Axol taps his camouflage-green helmet, getting a _tock-tock._ He starts moving, his speed impeded by the mud that sinks even deeper every time he takes a step.

Once he’s fumbled his way out of sticky brown dirt, he runs his way towards the source of gunfire. He dives into cover and waits for another round of bullets.

“Loot the bodies, and let’s get out before they get revived!” A gruff, female voice says. Axol peers over and sees a group of people wearing crudely made armor crouching down against a few corpses with tiny blue dots hovering above them.

He reaches for his hand cannon, situated on his waist and gently pulls it out of its holster, holding it tight in his hand. Spur synthesized some ammo for it while Axol was sleeping.

“ ** _Thanks, by the way._** ” He thinks.

“ ** _No problem._** ”

“Hah, suckers were carrying their entire stock with them!” A man says. “It’ll be a hell of a surprise once they get rezzed!” There is a boisterous laughter.

Axol peeks over and the hand that isn’t in a fist balls up. He feels a sort of energy build up in his palm, and looking towards it, his hand is now purple.

“Uh.” He doesn’t know how to react to his newfound power. He peeks over again, the woman snaps her head his direction, and her rifle falls into her hands.

“We got another one, boys!” She howls, and fires a few rounds that ping dangerously close to his head.

Axol stands up and throws a purple sphere that splits into many little fragments once it makes contact with the woman’s torso. His eyes widens as she is literally torn apart as the pieces that split apart explode and turn the person into mush.

“Whoa.” He instantly crouches down as the other armed men started shooting their weapons at him. “I can do that?”

“ ** _You can do a lot of other stuff, but like a skill, it has to be refined!_** ” Spur says, cheerily.

Axol’s head flinches downwards as he feels a bullet make a dent in his helmet. He moves along his cover and peeks out once he reaches an overturned car on the sidewalk. It takes a few shots to adjust, but he takes a man down before diving back in.

He hears a click and then two clinking as a cylinder-shaped object lands next to him.

“That’s a grenade.” He mumbles to himself, then falls backwards, curling up into himself as the explosion sends him through the glass of a storefront.

Axol coughs as he reorients himself, and shakes his head. He lays on his back and his Bad News is aiming towards the shattered glass. He holds his breath as he waits for a person to show up, so he can riddle them with bullets.

“Come on, let’s get out of here!” Air comes out of his lungs once hearing the voice and several sets of feet scurrying away into the distance. He groans as he sits himself up.

“Should I follow them?”

Spur appears. “Sure, just be careful, okay?”

. . .

The tracks of the scavengers weren’t hard to follow. They all led to another military base like the one Axol slept in a few hours ago. There are considerably less tents most being replaced by crops. A few people tended to the plants, and would occasionally go in them with an empty bag and emerge with a full one.

The front gate is occupied by a few armed guards, two standing in watch towers that serve more to observe the people inside the camp than provide any usefulness to any external threat. A few mill about, looking bored with their rifles slung over their shoulders. Some converse amongst themselves, while others keep a vigilant watch.

Axol steps into the open, right into the guards’ gaze. They all stop and turn his way.

“A person, wow. It’s been a while.” A man remarks, a lopsided smile on their face. “You one of those undead things?”

“Undead…what?” Axol asks as that same man pats him down.

“Do you have one of those floating things, you know, looks like a cube, blue eye…”

“ ** _I am not a cube!_** ” Spur scoffs. “ ** _Do I look like a cube!?_** ”

Axol shakes his head, then pops off his helmet. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Well, come on in then.” The gate slides opens. “Make sure to introduce yourself to everyone, they’re dying to meet someone new.”

/

“So…where do we look first?” Nadia ponders aloud as she visually scans an old map of Earth, one that’s dated before the Golden Age. “Ooh, maybe we should look down here!” She points to a piece of land on the bottom right corner, marked ‘AUSTRALIA’.

“Eh…that place is known for extremely dangerous wildlife. Plus, time there is all wrong.” Cherry tilts herself sideways, in thought. “It’ll probably annoy you too much.”

Nadia hums in response. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

“What about here?” She circles in the general area of a country marked ‘FRANCE’.

“Erm…that’s where the European Dead Zone is. That place is pretty creepy.” Cherry says, then hums. “Why not Old Chicago?” It shines a bit of light on the edge of a place called ‘United States of America’.

“Someone’s already been there, though. I wanna break new territory!” Nadia exclaims. “What about up here?” She points to Canada.

“Amir suggested that.”

“Then he’ll know where to find me! Onwards, TO VICTORY!” Nadia points upwards as she yellows.

Cherry sighs and programs the coordinates in.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two Guardians encounter different groups, and then each other.

Axol takes a look around his new home, for now at least. The people are welcoming enough, and the passersby all shot him beaming smiles as they walk past. There is a circle of children in front of a tent, all surrounding a jolly old man strumming on a guitar.

The fingers moving up and down the wooden fretboard are hypnotizing, to say the least. Axol can’t help but to approach, his curiosity growing evermore. He feels like a child, sitting with his legs bent and his knees up to his chest. The man greets him with a quick wave before going back to playing his song.

Axol is stuck in a trance-like state where all he can do is listen to the music and relax himself. The song the man is playing strikes emotion, with highs and lows that complement each other in a weaving of harmony. He’s taken out of his little reverie when the music stops.

The children clap and all disperse, leaving him and the old man alone.

“You’re new ‘round these parts?” The man asks, his body leaning forward. “’Scuse me, I should introduce myself first. Name’s Jeremiah.”

“Axol, nice to meet you.” They both exchange nods. “You’ve been playing for a while?”

“’Bout give or take fifty years or so.” Jeremiah chuckles. “Only thing that’s kept me sane when the Warlords and Risen would fight.”

Axol raises an eyebrow in curiosity. “Warlords? Risen?”

“They’re both kind of the same thing, just call themselves differently. They’re those…things that can’t die, have a little blue cube to revive them.” Jeremiah frowns. “They would fight, die, get revived, and repeat.”

“ ** _I am NOT a cube!_** ” Spur says, his frustration audible.

“ ** _Be quiet._** ” Axol admonishes.

“Dark times, dark times.” Jeremiah shakes his head, looking towards his feet. “Well, I shouldn’t bore you any longer, you have an entire camp to meet.”

“No, stay for a bit. I would like to learn more.” Axol gives Jeremiah a reassuring smile.

The older man shakes his head and exhales.

“No, it’s a tale for another time.” He says, with a slight tinge of irritation. He then stands up and packs away his gear before hastily making his way elsewhere. “You’ll want to meet with the doctor.”

“ ** _That’s…odd._** ” Axol thinks to himself, watching the old man disappear into the crowds of people.

“ ** _I guess we’ll just meet the doctor, see if she’s any friendlier._** ”

. . .

The doctor’s office was not hard to identify, as many handmade signs were put up that all pointed to it.

Axol raises his hand and gently knocks three times at the dull-green door with a makeshift white plus symbol on a white background. It looks drawn by a child using a dull crayon. There is movement from inside the small tent, and the door opens to an old grandma that stands a few inches taller than the half-way point of the doorway.

The woman squeals and puts her hands on her cheeks. “Oh, you must be the new person!” She says, excitedly. “Come in, come in!” She waves him in and steps backwards.

Axol is a bit too tall for the door and has to bend his legs to enter, but the inside of the room is tall enough for him, but barely.

There is a man inside, sitting with a bloodied gauze tourniquet on his arm. He looks more annoyed than in pain. His short blond beard complements his small facial hair that accompany a rather clean face. His nose has a small crook to it, and his lips look like they’ve formed calluses. “Damn Risen, keep harassing us.” He mutters.

“Suck it up.” The woman says harshly. “I swear you men get weaker every time you leave this base.” She grumbles.

“The guy sneaked up on Marcel! She couldn’t do anything before getting blasted in the face by some sort of handheld purple energy.” He looks at his arm and winces as the doctor presses two fingers on it. “Doesn’t help that he was a wicked shot too.”

“Please, you’ve dealt with them before, what makes this shithead any different?” The doctor scoffs. “Oh, he can shoot straight? Wow, what can you do against that?” She sarcastically says, then turns to Axol with a gracious smile.

“Sit beside the big baby over here, I need to run some basic diagnostics so I know if there are any problems with you.” She points to an empty spot next to the injured man on the stretcher table.  Axol does as told.

“James.” The man to his side says. “You new here?” He muses.

Axol shrugs. “You could say that.”

James gives his old and tattered uniform a better look. “Where’d you come from?” He asks.

“Eh, came up from south.”

“You’ve been to Old Chicago?”

Axol shakes his head.

“What about the Manhattan Nuclear Zone?”

Another head shake.

“Ah, so you came in from the west side? How is it?” James’ excitement and interest certainly is rising.

“A lot of nothing, really. Some settlements, not too different than here.” Axol sees the man visibly deflate. “Some of those Risen you’ve mentioned.”

“Are they any nastier over there?”

“What’s wrong with the ones here?” Axol inquires. His left arm is raised and a little tube is snaked through his sleeve. He holds onto the end of it, as instructed by the doctor.

“You see them? Bunch of assholes that think just because they can’t die, they’re better than us.” James grumbles, and he holds the edge of the table tightly. “Everyday they harass our camp, take our stuff, and people. Only recently that we’ve been fighting back, fucking Marcel and Ferrell are dead cause of them.”

“My condolences.” Axol feels a pang of guilt, now that he knows who he killed earlier today.

“Don’t worry about it, we’re going to recover the bodies later in the evening. You seem like a fighter, you want to tag along?”

He shrugs. “Maybe, if I don’t get caught up with introductions.”

James laughs. “Show up if you can.”

. . .

_A few hours later…_

Axol sits on the side of his new bed, with an actual mattress and pillows this time. He is bottom bunk though, and the one on top isn’t here at the moment.

He drags his hand across the somewhat hard sleeping surface and presses down, getting a firm resistance. He takes a breath.

“Just stick with these guys for a few weeks, and see if you can find others.” He whispers to himself.

“You talk to yourself? Cool.” A female voice says, making him jump. “Yeah, I know, I’m quiet.”

Axol turns to see a teenage girl standing inside the room. She wears round, thin glasses on top of rounded eyes and her clothes are a dirty t-shirt and sweatpants combo, with a few brown stains marring them. Her features are sharp and her eyes stare at him like a vulture.

“Pedophile, hello? Quit staring at me.” The girl says and crosses her arms.

Axol shakes his head. “My name’s Axol.”

“Call me Julia.”

“Nice to meet you, Julia.”

“Nice to meet you too, Ax.”

Their awkward conversation ends there, when Julia climbs up the ladder to her bed.

“No funny business in my room, got that?” She says, before tucking herself to sleep.

Axol decides it’s probably time that he does the same thing, too.

. . .

_A few days later…_

“Dude, get up!” Axol feels a tug on his arm. “Come on, James’ll get pissed if you don’t wake up!”

His eyes open and he jolts awake. “What, who? What’s happening?”

“James is preparing an expedition to downtown, he’s short on men. Meet him at the cafeteria.”

“And what am I supposed to do about it?” Axol asks, as he rubs his eyes.

“He noticed the revolver on your waist.” Julia points to the _Bad News_. “Never knew that Häkke distributed guns around here.”

Axol yawns. “Alright, tell him I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

“Good.” Julia runs out of the room.

It takes a few minutes for him to will himself to put his feet on the floor, and another few to actually stand up. His vision is still blurry at the edges, the condition being cured by rubbing his eyes again. He feels bags under his eyelids and his weight feels focused more to the front. His shoulders are slumped forward and his back is hunched a bit.

“ ** _How much sleep did I get?_** ” Axol mentally asks.

“ ** _About six hours total._** ” Spur answers. “ ** _It’s about five in the morning. You’ll be fine, just get your blood flowing._** ”

Axol silently nods and stretches his arms, groaning as his limbs feel a bit looser now. He heads towards the doorway and pushes the door open. The sun’s rays immediately blind him and he backs up a few steps while shielding his two eyeballs from burning to ashes.

Once he reorients himself, he steps outside and takes a breath. There is a bit of moisture in the air, and a few droplets of water find themselves trapped amongst the tiny patches of grass that pepper the mostly dirt ground. The soil is also a bit wet, which makes Axol’s boots stick a bit.

There are already people milling about, doing their own business. The old man with the guitar from yesterday was now playing an electric variant plugged into a speaker. The music he plays is now more aggressive, most likely intending to fill the listeners with energy to move on with the day.

Axol listens for a few seconds before turning away to look for the cafeteria. The signage is simple, and point him straight to the cafeteria, where there are people flowing in and out like it’s clockwork. He snakes his way through a small gathering and looks around, searching for James.

The man waves at him from the other end of the cafeteria. Axol makes his way through some round wooden tables in order to meet him.

“I’m sure Julia told you already?” James asks, crossing his arms and leaning on the wall behind him. “We’re heading into Risen territory.”

“Why would we do that?”

“Our scout, Jenna here…” He cocks his head towards to woman to his left. She’s caked full of mud and dirt, concealing a majority of her face and making her smell quite bad. She flicks away a fly that lands on the back of her hand. “Discovered that they found a full Golden Age technology cache. We can’t let that stuff get in their dirty claws, or it’s over for us.”

“Damn, that doesn’t sound too good.” Axol puts a hand on his hip. “So it’s just a quick in and out mission?”

“Hopefully, they won’t just hand it over to us.” James chuckles, and Axol forces out a laugh. “Bad joke, I know.”

“Anyways, we should be a group of six, if Jeremiah has his kit ready…” James checks his watch.

“Jeremiah? The one that plays guitar? Isn’t he a bit…” Axol asks, looking around himself to see if the old man is anywhere nearby. “Too old to fight?”

Jenna laughs. “Oh, he’s probably the toughest one out of all of us. He plays a mean distraction, and I mean that quite literally.”

“Hey, you know that’s not true.” James has a cocky smile on his face, and he lightly punches her on the shoulder. The two exchange insults and start laughing afterwards.

Axol feels a bit out of place.

/

_A few days earlier…_

Nadia lands on top of an old, crumbling skyscraper that has a nice few of the towering spire at what looks like the center of this city. She looks in awe as the needle top looks like it can break through the clouds and possibly go even further.

“Damn…they built stuff like this?” Cherry materializes next to her after she makes her remark.

“Yep, and they did it for fun!” The Ghost adds cheerfully.

Nadia continues staring at the tower in admiration for a few minutes, before shaking herself out of her trance. She then looks down towards the ground. There is a pair of people following each other, and talking quite loudly at that. She can almost hear what they’re saying.

“You reckon they would shoot at me if I jumped down?” Nadia asks to Cherry, who does the audible equivalent to a shrug in response. The construct disappears in a white flash. “Here we go!”

The Huntress takes a small hop down, and double-jumps near the end of her fall to prevent her death. The two people that were walking down the street jump and turn behind themselves, their weapons drawn.

Nadia gives them a childish wave before raising her hands as there are now two weapon barrels pointed at her.

“Identify yourself.” The man on the left wears a dirty scarf over his nose, and a scrappy helmet on his head. His eyes blend in with the shadow cast over them. His voice is hoarse, and low. “Now, before I shoot.”

“Hey, calm down.” Nadia rolls her eyes. “I’m a fellow Guardian, if you couldn’t tell?”

“A what?” The woman on the right asks. She wears a similar attire to the man, but with color mismatches that border on criminal. Seriously, maroon on green?  

“Guardian? Ring a bell?” Nadia leans her neck forward, her hands facing upwards next to her head. “You know, protector of humanity, wielder of Light?”

“Light…oh, you mean a Risen?” The man on the left asks. “You’re a Risen, too?”

“A what now? Risen? Haven’t heard that term in a while. You guys stuck in the past or something? Last City’s that-a-way.” She points east.

“There’s a living city?” The woman lowers her weapon, and nods to her partner to do the same. “Like, with people, police, and safety?”

“Yes, are you guys living under a rock or something?” Nadia lowers her arms, and has them awkwardly to her sides. “Feels like I’m in a museum, or something.”

The man pulls out his Ghost, who daintily orbits around his head. “I’m Samuel.” Then nods to Nadia.

“Samantha.” The woman says.

“Two Sams.”

“Yeah, sort of a joke in our group.”

Nadia perks up at the mention of a group. “There are more of you?” So far, she hasn’t been impressed by the two Guardians in front of her. They talk too much.

Which is a bit hypocritical, now that she thinks about it.

“Yes, let’s go, they’re waiting for us.” Samuel says.

“Could I tag along?” She asks. The two look at each other and shrug. Her Redrix’s Broadsword materializes on her back. They both raise their weapons. “Calm down, just don’t want to be the odd one out.”

The Sam duo both obviously forces laughs. “Right, right.”

“Sure, just don’t cause any trouble. We’ve been having issues with a local gang.” Samantha says, shouldering her weapon. “I hope you’re a good shot, cause these guys like to move fast. Hopefully we won’t encounter them, but the possibility is always there.”

Nadia rolls her head, hearing a satisfying pop from her neck. “Alright, I’m ready.” She locks her fingers together and stretches her arms in front of her. “Okay, now I’m _really_ ready.”

Samuel scoffs, then cracks a smile. “Let’s head out.”

. . .

The group of three happen upon a crumbling Braytech building, the Golden Age company’s logo half fallen off its mounting and flickering like there’s no tomorrow. Cherry said that it should have been dead half a century ago.

“We’re here.” Samantha says, stepping over a caved in trash can that has somewhat melded with the sidewalk’s asphalt. The establishments stands just under the towering spire that Nadia spent a couple of minutes gawking at a half-hour before. It looks like it’s swaying, and about to fall any moment.

“Nadia, our little…society is a bit odd, just to warn you.” Samantha says, as she leads the other two further into the building, stopping at a metal door and prying it open. “Come on, I can’t hold this for long.”

Nadia and Samuel step through, and hold the door for Samantha, then letting it slam shut once she’s in. The stairway is pitch-black, and all three of their Ghosts appear and act as flashlights for their respective Guardians.

“So tell me, Nadia, how is it in the Last City?” Samuel asks.

Nadia shrugs. “It’s alright, I guess. There’s a Vanguard in charge of all the Guardians, the city’s pretty nice, although I don’t go down to it much.” She tilts her head to the side, and jumps as a cheerful ringtone is played through her earpiece. “Hold on guys, I got a call. Go ahead, I’ll catch up.” She says, nodding to her Ghost.

Samuel and Samantha shrug and move on ahead.

“Hey, Cayde!” Nadia nervously laughs as the name of the Hunter Vanguard appears on her top-right. “How you doin’, in the Tower, all trapped…?”

There is a robotic sigh from the other end. “Y’know, you could’ve let me know that you’re going on an expedition, _alone_ , to _Canada?_ ”

“Is that what this place is called again? Well, thanks so much Cayde, couldn’t have done it without you.” Nadia forces another awkward laugh. “I’m doing fine, out here, managed to meet another pack of Guardians, haven’t had my life attempted on me yet.”

“Oh no, that’s not what I care about, I’m just calling you because Ikora told me to…I said that a bit too loud didn’t I?” There is a muffled sigh, and from the tone of exasperation, it’s probably from the Warlock Vanguard. “Look, uh, gotta go, just stay safe out there, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Nadia waves her hand in the air and prepares to shut the link down.

“Wait-wait…what’s that? Don’t shut the link off?” Cayde says, talking to Ikora, who’s glare can be felt a continent away. “Oh…alright, um. Take some notes, gather the population there and try to bring some home.”

“Is that it?” Nadia leans on a wall and looks at her gloved nails.

“Yeah…I think? Ikora’s giving me a nod so I think I’m safe to do that now. See you ‘round.”

The link is shut off.

Nadia starts moving double-time as her feet move in a blur, attempting to catch up to the two Sams.

“So, who’s Cayde?” Samantha asks, waiting at the dimly illuminated bunker door.

“Oh, uh, leader of Hunters, Vanguard business and all that.”

“…Vanguard?”

“Right, basically representatives of the three official Guardian disciplines.” Nadia mutters, looking at her feet, and lightly kicking one to make some dust underneath it. “Don’t worry, if you’re coming back with me, they’ll explain it.”

“Uh huh.” Samantha slowly nods and the door in front of them starts grinding itself open. There is a loud alarm and a rotating orange light that nearly blinds Nadia. Once opened, a pristine lozenge shaped hallway presents itself. There are yellow railings guarding from anyone to fall into the glass walls that contain what resemble black circuitry, with many blue and red lights blipping.

The three walk in, Samuel trailing behind them, and go through another entryway that is four pieces that retract themselves into the gaps in between the doorway. There is a single person waiting for them, armed with an ugly yellow Ros Lysis II auto rifle in their hands. They raise it towards Nadia, gesturing for the two beside her to step aside.

“She’s friendly, don’t worry.” Samantha says, pushing the weapon down.

“Has the Teacher gifted us another soldier?” The now clearly deranged man says, looking towards her.

“ ** _The Teacher?_** ” Nadia furrows her brows in confusion. “ ** _Is he referring to the Traveler?_** ”

“ ** _…I think?_** ” Cherry replies questionably. “ ** _That’s a first._** ”

“…Yeah, you could say? I mean, I do live under it.” The Huntress says, scratching the back of her head. “Casts a pretty big shadow, though.”

“You dare disrespect the Teacher like that?” The man says, now agitated and stepping forward aggressively.

Nadia instinctively reaches one hand to her back, ready to draw.

“Don’t worry about Damian here, he’s a bit…uh, out of it. Makes good stories.”

Damian grumbles some more things under his breath and shoulders his weapon. “Come in.” He says, through gritted teeth. He then steps to the side, to give her room to pass.

Through another door like the previous one, and now they’re on a balcony that looks down on where the rest of the group of Guardians have holed up. They stand about, directionless, all seemingly bored and waiting for something to happen. They all look up to their position, and then lock onto Nadia, who grows ever more creeped out.

“Hi, everyone?” There are a few waves in response. “Um, nice to meet you all, my name’s Nadia.”

With how amazingly weird everyone is being, she has a creeping feeling that she won’t find her new fireteam member here.

. . .

Nadia sets up her Bite of the Fox through a crack in boarded up windows, punching a hole big enough for her scope to see through. She pivots the barrel, feeling satisfied by its smooth movement before dragging a few tables in the room she is in underneath, so she can lay down on them.

She was assigned with Damian to scout out for any potential movements of that enemy gang Samantha mentioned a few days prior. The weird guy was supposed to cover ground level while she was posted as sniper support.

“Hey Damian, why do you call the Traveler the Teacher?” Nadia asks, scratching her thigh.

There is a short moment of radio static. “The Teacher teaches us, its students, the ways of life. The two constants of the universe, the endless struggle.”

God, he’s sounding a lot like Brother Vance.

Nadia scoffs. “Uh huh…interesting, and what are those two constants?”

“The Light…and the Darkness. One chases the other, and it brings about the eventual death of the universe.” Damian exhales. “I know this sounds…perplexing, but with time, you’ll understand.”

Nadia rolls her eyes. “I’m going radio silent, contact me if there’s anything urgent.” She feels the grip of the Bite of the Fox.

Cherry materializes. “Remember, shoot to disable.” She says, quite seriously. “We don’t kill humans.”

Nadia gives a thumbs up before looking through the scope, scanning the road underneath her for any intruders. “Nothing here-“

There is an extremely loud and distorted guitar chord from the roof of the building opposite to hers, then starts rocking out in a catchy sounding rift.

“…Do you hear that?” Damian asks.

“Yeah, I think I know where it’s coming from.” She shifts her attention on the old man that is currently rocking out on an electric guitar.

“Interesting.” She sends out a warning shot towards the speaker the instrument’s plugged into.

“Killing in the name of-“ The old man apparently also has a microphone, then he starts ripping into a clearly Golden Age rock song. The music doesn’t stop.

A bullet pierces through the wood that covers her window and hits her in the thigh. Her shield takes most of the damage but she feels it burrowing into her pants.

“Damn, good shot.” She mutters as she quickly searches for the enemy sniper, before rolling to the side, onto the ground as another round nearly hits her in the head. “Really good shot!”

She grabs her sniper rifle and changes rooms, breaking a window before peeking out to get a quick glance outside. She notices a glint coming from a condominium, and goes back to cover as a bullet pings dangerously close to her face, off of the window frame.

“Is he still there?” Nadia asks.

“ ** _Yes, he hasn’t moved!_** ” Cherry replies.

The Huntress peeks out again and has her scope pre-aimed at the glint. She lets out a shot and ducks.

“Did I hit him?” She asks, bringing out her Ghost to take a look.

“You killed him.” Cherry says. “Wait…he’s being revived!”

“Well, shall we?”

/

Axol should have seen it coming. He should have moved.

The bullet penetrated right through his skull, leaving a corpse behind in its furious trajectory.

“Axol, you alright up there!?” James’ agitated voice asks. The cracking of gunfire trumps all other noise. “Shit, he’s down!”

Axol gets revived. “I’m alright, hit in the shoulder.” He says.

“Thank God, get out of there, the enemy sniper is moving onto you!”

He peeks out and sees the figure of a person using some kind of floating vehicle and jumping from one building to another across the road, on the same side as him. “Shit.” The gunfire from down below is directed to it, but it holds strong.

The enemy runs right into Axol’s condo building, a window shattering underneath him.

“I better move.” He says as he hears fast footsteps approaching. He grabs his Aachen Lyr-2 and looks up to a hole in the roof, attempting to leap up to it.

His hand doesn’t manage to grip the edge. “Fuck.” He mutters as he hops again and reaches one hand out, closing his fist afterwards, hoping that he can grab a piece of rebar. There is a white flash and he suddenly above the hole. “Whoa.”

The door to the studio apartment he occupied is kicked open.

Axol stays quiet as the enemy’s footsteps slow down, and he anxiously looks down. One hand balls up and starts charging what Spur’s calling ‘Handheld Supernova’. He feels his fist tighten and waits.

The person underneath looks up and they make eye contact.

Axol lets go and makes a dash for the hallway.

There is a yell from underneath and then what sounds like air being pushed twice. He doesn’t hesitate to find out what that is as he breaks down a door and turns left, towards the stairs. He hears James say something into his radio but it’s indistinguishable under his panic.

“Slow down! I just want to talk!” The woman chasing him cries out as she’s right on his tail, and creeping ever closer.

Axol gives a glance behind him before bursting through another window and jumping off. In his adrenaline-fueled flight response, he hasn’t realized the fall down is quite enough to turn him to mush.

What he also hasn’t realized was that the woman is right on top of him. She wraps her forearm around his neck and presses down on it. Her other arm grabs him by the stomach and forces him close to her.

By now, Axol has fainted.

. . .

_Hours later…_

Axol blinks as his vision slowly unblurs itself. His back sits up straight and his head swivels side-to-side in order to access his situation. There is a pulsation of discomfort as his back feels tight. The thin blanket on him falls to the side.

The room he’s in his dimly lit, the only source of light being from a Ghost that sure as hell isn’t Spur. The construct does a double-take once they see each other, and then it flies out through a crack in the wall.

“He’s awake!” A high-pitched, feminine voice says. There are light footsteps and the turning of a doorknob as the only door in the chamber is opened. The person that steps in flicks a light switch.

Axol blinks a few times to adjust his vision. His attention is taken by a light-grey woman with two white stripes underneath her eyes. Her lips are small, and sport a gentle shade of blue. Her pupils observe him passively.

“I thought it’d be better for you to sleep in the dark.” The woman says, pulling a chair and sitting on it, facing perpendicular to the wooden bed Axol is on. She exhales and a light smile forms on her face. “You’re not a half-bad shot.”

He stays quiet, keeping his lips sealed.

“…Okay then, my name’s Nadia.” She says.

Axol nods and looks to the side, averting eye-contact. He feels his cheeks reddening. His head snaps to distant gunfire in the background.

“Don’t worry, we’re far away from that.” Nadia exhales. “You’re stuck with me for a bit, now scoot over, we’re sharing the bed.”

This wooden pallet is supposed to be a bed?

**Author's Note:**

> Leave thoughts, constructive criticisms, whatever in comments, I love reading them.


End file.
